


Alone

by LesbeanLatte



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Daddy Issues, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Out of the Closet Mac, Past Sexual Abuse, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Slurs, mostly angst though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12968274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbeanLatte/pseuds/LesbeanLatte
Summary: Dennis is leaving Philadelphia, leaving the bar, and leaving Mac and it's all coming crashing down on Mac when Dennis comes to say a last goodbye.





	Alone

Too many beers and maybe a little too much ice cream.

A summary of my life, Mac thought.

The ceiling seemed to be swaying. Or was it spinning? The floor wasn't exactly being still either. Whatever was happening, it was making Mac feel dizzy as hell and he would give anything to feel normal, or just pass out - blackout and feel nothing - but his mind wouldn't seem to shut the hell up.

Mac was laying on the hard floor of the apartment in the middle of the living room. Normally he would have gone to bed. He felt like shit and he was pretty sure he was going to be sick pretty soon.

Years of living a rock and roll ("alcoholic!" yelled a little voice in the back of his head) lifestyle, had led to a very high alcohol tolerance level. Not high enough.

Mac had taken more shots than he could count while at the bar then come home and chugged an entire six-pack.

There were two things stopping him from stumbling into the king-sized mattress in the bedroom (Dennis' bedroom, part of his mind whispered), The first was that he couldn't find the will to stand up and he was pretty sure if he tried he would topple right back over. The second was that it really didn't matter where he slept because he lived alone now.

Alone.

That truth was sinking in and it hurt like a bitch.

Dennis was not coming back. Dennis had finally (how the fuck) finally gotten his shit together, and nothing could ever go back to how it was.

What the hell did it take?

How dark did they have to get? How fucking far did they have to go until someone said - hey, this is enough and I can't do it, this is too god damn fucked up, even or me.

Lying, stealing, kidnapping, assault, faking cancer, holding a fake baby funeral to scam the IRS, digging up Dee and Dennis' goddamn mom's rotting corpse in search of imagined hidden cash - none of it meant shit, none of it mattered. 

Because their lives were shit and they all knew it. 

But at least they had each other. Sure they were all fucked in the head, but they were all fucked in the head together and when they did something bad they could forget about it the next day.

You couldn't forget about a son.

That shit doesn't disappear the next morning. That shit doesn't go away. Hell, maybe none of the terrible things they did went away.

"Remember your dad?" the little voice in Mac's head asked. "Remember how he gave you stolen Christmas presents and called your mom ugly all the time, remember how he never said he loved you and how he turned away whenever you tried to hug him? How he didn't care when you were bullied, or when the cool kids called you a faggot and beat you up? Remember?"

Mac wished that stupid fucking voice would shut the hell up already. His dad was GREAT, okay? Fucking great.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, and maybe his words were slurred and maybe they weren't. Did it matter?

"It's me."

God damn it.

God FUCKING damn it.

Dennis could just leave like nothing mattered, like over twelve years with the gang didn't mean shit (like Mac didn't mean shit) and then he could come back and say two words and Mac was putty in his hands all over again.

What the hell man?

"Look out faggot." That's what Frank had yelled, and maybe it had saved Mac's life. Sure, they all screamed slurs and curses all the time, all day every day. No big deal. So why had Frank's words stung so much?

Faggot.

Gay.

Queer.

You stupid faggot. 

You stupid fucking faggot. 

Whatever.

Growing up, Christian values were all he had. They were the only values he ever learned, the only semblance of normalcy or "right and wrong" he was ever taught. So when he was thirteen and got a boner looking at a Men's Health he was disgusted with himself and hurried to punish himself before his dad could.

He shook away the memory. He didn't want to think about that right now. He didn't want to remember the way the lighter's flame burning his skin as a kid made him feel okay like maybe he was getting what he deserved so he was okay and maybe he wouldn't go to hell if he repressed those feelings. 

He didn't want to feel dirty and gross and bad and predatory. He had moved past that. He knew now that his feelings weren't wrong (right?) and he was okay and he wasn't that scared little kid anymore. 

He was a grown ass man and he was beyond that. He'd felt that way for years but he was out of the closet now and there was no going back. Was there? He shook away the question. Of course not. He was glad to be out. And his friends didn't care. They never had. Not that they were great examples of morality, or whatever.

"Mac?" Dennis pounded on the door again. "Can I please come in?"

What did he even want? Didn't he have a kid or whatever to take care of? Didn't he have a flight to catch? A flight away from Philly, a flight away from the gang (away from Mac) away from all the bullshit and towards a family life - the life Dennis deserved - the life this kid deserved.

Mac forced himself up from the floor and stumbled, grabbing a chair to steady himself. The room really was swimming around him. He felt sick but he took a deep breath and managed to steady himself. He made his way to the door.

Dennis was on the other side of that door.

Dennis, who had bullied Mac and called him a faggot in grade school. Dennis who had tried to kiss Mac under the bleachers in junior high then later denied it and made fun of Mac when the other popular kids were around. Dennis who had made fun of Mac and Charlie for huffing glue in high school only to show up at Charlie's place with a paper bag filled with glue after school with tears in his eyes (which he of course denied) muttering about his parents not recognizing that he was a golden god and deserved respect. 

Mac opened the apartment door. 

"Hey man." Dennis stumbled in the door and Mac closed it behind him. 

"Hey," Mac said. Dennis collapsed onto the sofa, his head tilting to one side. 

There was an awkward moment of silence. Mac was about ready to collapse himself, but he remained standing. 

"What are you doing here, Dennis?" Mac finally asked. "I thought you were done with us?" 

"I am, man," Dennis said, and his words were a little slurred. "I am. But I came to say goodbye." 

Mac just stared. 

He honestly had no idea what to say. For years he and Dennis had shared this apartment and sometimes he felt like Dennis was his best friend and he was Dennis' best friend and together they were a badass duo capable of anything. 

Sometimes though, like now, he felt like he didn't know Dennis at all. 

Did Dennis have feelings? Why did he only show them sometimes? Did he ever have feelings or did he actually just manipulate people by pretending he did? Why could Dennis sometimes make Mac feel like the most valuable, badass, awesome person in the world but then sometimes like the lowest form of trash? How could one person have so much control over him? 

"Right," Mac said. Drunk or not, he had his dignity and he wasn't making a show. 

How many times had he repeatedly told his dad he loved him only to get jack shit in return? How many times had he tried to talk to Charlie about something serious only for Charlie to say something that made no sense or make it about something weird like Frank's tapeworm? How many times had he tried to make friends with Dee only for her to dick him over one way or another? And Dennis was the worst of all of them. Because sometimes, just sometimes, it seemed almost like Dennis cared. 

He was done. 

"Well, goodbye. Now get the hell out of my apartment." 

Dennis stared at him blankly for a few seconds. "Flights not til tomorrow," he slurred. 

"Okay?" Mac said. 

"C'mon, man," Dennis said. "Let me stay in my old room. One last night." His words slurred together, and he was slumping on the couch. 

"Fine," Mac said, wrapping an arm around Dennis and helping him up. 

What was one night on the couch? Did it really matter? 

He dragged Dennis down the hall and into the bedroom, allowing Dennis to flop limply onto the bed. He started to walk away. 

"Wait," Dennis said. 

Mac sighed and turned around. 

"What?" he snapped. 

"Aren't you going to say something about how I'm leaving and now the bed is yours?" Dennis asked. "Or how you should get the bed?" 

"No," Mac said in a flat voice. 

There was a pause. 

"Aren't you going to say," Dennis raised his voice an octave and continued. "Hey Dennis, maybe we could just share the bed." 

"My voice doesn't sound like that," Mac said. 

"I know," Dennis sounded resigned. "I know it doesn't. Maybe we could just share the bed anyway." 

"What's your play here?" Mac asked. He was suddenly feeling almost sober and he wished he had another drink. "Seriously, Dennis. What the hell? You say you’re leaving. You say you’ve had enough and you’re done with me -" Mac faltered, and corrected himself. "Done with Paddy's Pub. And you take off. But now you're back here talking about sharing a bed. Yesterday we couldn't even share a room."

"It's not that we couldn't share a room," Dennis muttered. 

"What?" Mac snapped. 

Dennis sat up on the bed and met Mac's eyes with surprising steadiness given both of their intoxicated states. "It's not that we couldn't share a room," Dennis said. "I just...I don't know. I didn't know what would be..." he trailed off, and his eyes wandered away again, refusing to meet Mac's gaze. "I didn't know what would be expected if we did." 

"Right," Mac said. 

He didn't say anything else for a few moments. Mac knew Dennis had been raped by the librarian as a kid. Honestly, it wasn't the age difference that Mac was fixated on (even if he used this as a point whenever he tried to have a conversation with Dennis about what had happened) or even the huge power imbalance. It was obvious in the way Dennis talked about his experiences that his relationship with the librarian had been traumatic and that was what mattered. 

Mac knew it wasn't something Dennis liked to talk about. He knew Dennis had issues with understanding what consent was. He knew about these things better than anyone else who knew Dennis because he paid attention and he knew Dennis. Whatever it was between them - Dennis called them blood brothers, Dee said they were codependent, Mac sometimes thought it was something else - they understood each other in a way no one else did. 

"Dennis," Mac said, staring at Dennis until Dennis met his eyes. "Listen, I would never expect you to do anything you didn't want to. If you're okay with sharing the bed, I'm okay with sharing the bed." 

Dennis nodded, and Mac slowly stepped forward. His head was still spinning and he wasn't sure he was in the best ever state to make decisions. How often had he dreamed about kissing Dennis, holding Dennis - taking things even farther? He wasn't going to think about any of that. Dennis wanted to share the bed. He hadn't made it clear he wanted to do anything else. 

Mac climbed into the bed and lay down beside Dennis, pulling the covers over himself and leaning his head back on the pillow. 

"I never said I was done with you," Dennis said after a few minutes, propping himself up on his elbow to face Mac. 

"What?" Mac asked. He was surprised to hear Dennis speak, he had honestly thought Dennis was passed out. 

"I said I was done with the bullshit, Mac," Dennis said. "I have to be. When I think about...When I think about when I was a kid, and all the shitty moves Frank pulled - ruining Christmas for me and Dee every year, calling our mom a whore, never being around when we needed him - I can't do that to another kid. Look how I turned out. Look how Dee turned out, god. I can't have my kid turning out like that." 

"Dennis," Mac said. "I get it." 

"I don't think you do," Dennis was now staring at him with surprising intensity. Mac felt his stomach turn over. "I can't do this without your support. You, and the gang. You guys are all I have, all I've ever had really. I can't raise this kid if you don't have my back...like you always do." 

Mac hitched his breath and nodded. "Yeah," he said when he could speak again. "You know I always have your back, Dennis." 

Something occurred to him and felt a smile spread across his face despite himself. "I'm gonna be an uncle." 

Dennis grinned back at him. "Something like that," he agreed. 

The room was still spinning as Mac lay his head back on the pillow. He was just about to pass out when he felt a weight on his chest and looked down to see Dennis resting his head against him. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling. 

He realized, looking down at Dennis' peacefully sleeping face, that he was not alone.


End file.
